


Lost

by emmykay



Category: Earthsea - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Gen, Minor Canonical Character(s), POV Minor Character, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had been lost so long, she did not know what it meant to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stellarwobble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarwobble/gifts).



She loved the new dress her mother had given her. It was a pale purple silk, elaborately decorated with seed pearls and edged all over with lace. She spun happily on the smooth stone floors, her little arms held out, the gathers spreading out as she spun on her newly slippered feet. Mother and Nanny laughed. She looked up at them and, clutching the full skirts between her chubby fingers, laughed too.

"Here - " Mother held out a hand and made beckoning gesture. "For you."

Into her small outstretched palm was placed a half-circle, the silver worn and blackened in the crevices and holes that ran around it. The broken edges of the ring extended beyond the sides of her hand. Mother brought that hand up to her mouth and kissed the dimples. 

She mimicked her mother, gesturing for her hand.

Mother received back the half-ring and laughed at the damp kisses on her knuckles. "Shall we do this all day? Silly girl." She reached and poked the half-ring into an interior pocket. "It's yours. For you to give when it's your turn."

The door behind them burst open. While they were still turning towards it, Father rushed in with a few men, pushing Brother in front of him. Brother ran toward Nanny, sniffling. As Nanny accepted Brother in her arms, Father slammed the door shut behind, wrestling with the bar across the great wooden panels. 

"The men are holding the usurper off, but I don't know for how long."

"When?" gasped Mother.

"Soon."

There was great bang on the doors and they shook against the frame.

"What about the children?"

Another great bang caused the doors to groan against their hinges.

She was grabbed, roughly. She looked up, mouth open, into Mother's urgent eyes. "Someone will come. You must keep--" 

Then the door burst open. A voice, hoarse and urgent, yelled, "The children! Just give us the children!"

Nanny and Mother stood in front of them. Someone grabbed Nanny and hit her across the face. Blood began to gush down Nanny's full apron.

Father shouted, harsh words that she didn't understand.

Careless hands grabbed her, pulling her away from Mother. Mother screamed, "Anthil! Ensar!" Her face horribly contorted, she shrieked, "A curse upon you should you harm my children!"

* * *

She was wrapped in a sack and placed on a wagon of a rough hewn wooden planks, each roll of the wheels caused her teeth to rattle against each other. She was placed on a boat, damp spreading all over her new dress as she was forced to sit on the water-logged bottom. But it had been dark, so she hadn't seen anything as they traveled. They had taken the sack off once they dropped her into the bottom of a boat. She saw the morning sky briefly. She didn't remember very much after that. Maybe there had been another boat, or two. Somewhere along the way, she lost her slippers. 

She was very sick for much of the trip - vomiting while the endless motion caused only more sickness. No one helped her. Only Brother had tried to get her to drink some water, eat some of the dry hard bread that was thrown in front of them. Nothing helped. He couldn't help her wash - he too, was tied up.

* * *

This dream was common enough, terrible and familiar. Yet she longed for it. It was the only way she could remember her mother's and father's faces clearly, could hear their voices. She could no longer remember them when she was awake. Too much time had passed, time she had spent staring at the water and the sky, staring and hoping for Mother, Father, Nanny, anyone to come for her.

There was no one. There was only herself and Brother, the birds, the seals, the fish, the sea, the little pool of water, the sand, the rocks, the sky and the wind. 

And then someone had come. 

Darkness had burst into their small house, bringing with it the terrible sounds of the storm and the awful chill of the wind. She had been too frightened to speak, too afraid to even look at him directly even after she had peeked out from under her blankets. He had grunted sounds at them, maddened sounds, nonsense sounds. Then he lay in their shelter, digging himself a hollow in the sand, burying himself under his damp cloak. 

He stayed there all night, coming out from under his cloak only to eat or drink or eliminate and then immediately going back in.

Lots of things washed up on the beach. Fetid things, delicious things, wooden things, rocky things. But this. She wasn't sure.

She walked along the beach, gathering kelp and snails off the rocky shore. On a good day, she could circle the beach many times, following the tide, finding new things each time. Sometimes, it was only some wood, or rotten fish. Sometimes, though, the fish was good enough to eat. Once, it was a large wooden flat, the side bashed in. 

The man had emerged from their house. He limped across the island, looking here and there. Whenever he approached, Brother ran off as quickly as he could. Brother would know what to do. He always did. She could not bring herself to do the same. At least, not as quickly. 

The dark man scared her. Still, he had hands, he had feet, he had been sick, he seemed to be getting better. He must be like her, like Brother, regardless of the color of his skin. Was it he she was waiting for? How could he, when he didn't speak anything she understood - it was as if his voice, his words, were solely for the wind that constantly blew over the island.

She knew he was alone. He had been cold, he must be hungry, he seemed sad.

She remembered all the times when she was cold, and hungry, and sad. But she had never been alone. Never as alone as this man. Brother had always been there.

Brother wanted the man to die, to leave them alone.

She, tremblingly, brought him water and some precious store of hers and Brother's food. Noises came out of the dark man's mouth, she dropped the shell filled with water and took several steps back, tears filling her eyes as she saw the spilled liquid draining away through the sand. He had looked up to her with his dark eyes and then, sadly, pityingly, looked away.

* * *

She reached for the mussels, prying them off the rocks. She looked at him, as sly as she could. He was working on his boat. Could he be the one her mother had told her about?

She handed the mussels to dark man. Gravely, he accepted them.

She knew she didn't have the words. Her words had slipped away over time - things she thought she once knew she could no longer recall. Brother didn't talk much, not since they had come here. 

She didn't know how she knew, but this stranger that had washed up on their beach had spoken to them, even though she didn't know what the sounds meant. The man's words reminded her of other people's voices, of things she had been taught so long ago. She tried to curtsey, as she remembered. But her back bent and her knees ached. The curtsey did not come as she remembered.

As he passed by, heading over the small rise of the island, Brother coughed at her, warning. Brother knew everything, of course. Or almost everything. He did not bow at the stranger, although they had been taught manners by the same women.

She was scared of the man. She was scared of everything. She had learned to be scared ever since they had been put on the boat, torn away from Nanny and Mother and Father. Brother might have been scared too, but Brother protected her, been with her every day of her life. She had not known time without Brother. 

Every day, they slept together, their bodies warming each other, comforting, like the seals on the beach. Every day, they walked the shore. Sometimes, they would do it together, sometimes, they would do it alone. Brother liked being alone more than she did.

But this man was so alone. He had no brother, no sister.

She remembered what her mother had said to her. "Someone will come."

She hobbled quickly to the house and took a small bundle from her sleeping hollow. She brought it to the man. Maybe he would recognize it. She carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing the brittle, stained dress she had worn for as long as she could. Wearing it until it hurt, the color fading from the sun and the salt water. Still, it was beautiful. Most of the seed pearls sewn on the dress had remained attached, the color faintly reminiscent of the original purple. 

He looked at the dress, eyebrows drawn together in a question. She pulled the dress up against her front and pointed to herself. She could remember, distantly, Mother's and Nanny's laughing as she twirled.

He nodded. Happily, she reached into the dress, found the inner pocket and pulled out the little bit of metal. Shyly, she offered it to him. He hesitated, but she gestured to him over and over until he held out his hand. She placed the tarnished half-circle in his palm, where it sat easily.

She was satisfied. He would know what to do with it. He was the one Mother had told her about. 

The man continued to work on his boat for another day. He broke off his repairs when Brother appeared, hands empty. He tried to talk to Brother, even going so far as to place a hand on Brother's arm. He gestured to the boat, out to the sea, to the horizon. Brother shrugged the man off, shaking and shaking his head, lips set tight, his face drawn in upset lines. 

Brother kept her in the house as the man made ready to leave. It would be better to not see, not know. Perhaps the man would forget them. He would go away as he had come, by himself.

When they emerged from the house, it was she who noticed the spring's waters rising in the air. She hurried toward it, disregarding Brother's nervous cry. She tasted it. It was the sweetest thing she had known in a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> The story of Anthil and Ensar had haunted me for years. What must it mean in Earthsea, a world founded on language and song, to have lost language? This is an effort to think about what it might be like to be Anthil.


End file.
